


Stressful Life

by DecaSf



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Assassin AU, Attempted Murder, Blood and Violence, Blue - Freeform, Domestic, Edge - Freeform, Edge is a Kitchen Critique, Eventual Romance, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff, Fuku - Freeform, He is Ego from Ratatouille, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Light Angst, M/M, Maybe someone will get hurt idk, Muffet - Freeform, Mystery, Red - Freeform, Slim is a nerd, Slow Burn, Stretch, Stretch is a bad boy, Swapfell, They all play DND, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Undyne - Freeform, Whateverthefuck the name is, bad boy, but like lightly, grillby - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23894653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DecaSf/pseuds/DecaSf
Summary: It's the third time Edge has had to change locations.The new small town doesn't hold a lot of food options to review, and he doesn't want to leave his brother struggling back in the big city, but the bills have to be paid. Starting from nothing is what he needs, and now he can only go up. He is nobody, and his job is a secret once again.So why does he feel like he is being watched?
Relationships: Papyrus/Papyrus (Undertale)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Off to a decaf start

This place resembles nothing like New York.

It’s dirty, of course. His attentive eyelights can pick up dust accumulated on shelves and on top of the lamps, places where no one would have thought to dust but him, despite the low light atmosphere. But this is a small place, and he will probably have to lower his standards a bit for it to pass.

Not that he’s going to.

And it’s quiet.

He likes the lights, only a little bit. Hanging low from the ceiling, they straight up used Christmas decoration to illuminate the place. Even though they serve look-alike Mexican food, there is not an annoying child in sight to properly celebrate Gyftm...Christmas, or whatever the fuck they mean by decorating the place like this. It’s August, for fuck’s sake.The place is as empty as it’s going to get.He likes the heat of the place too, combined with the outside dryness. Leather tends to cling pleasantly to his bones in this kind of temperature. He is convinced with the overall look, if only because he isn’t eating yet and the mood that has accompanied him this morning since he left the airport, sweaty and tired, is clouding his good judgement.

The food is late. Probably.

He doesn’t know if it’s common for a regular steak to take more than thirty minutes standard. Maybe they are hugging it to tenderness. It’s a “Mom and Pop” place. Whatever the fuck that means.

He gets comfier in the chair, scoping the place with suspicious eyelights. There is not many people here. A little strange considering it’s a suburban restaurant at early dinner time. A couple too absorbed on their own devices to be afraid of him, and two housewives by the bar that are turning around every few seconds as if to make sure he’s only a Halloween decoration that got a little out of hand.

Edge sits still on the back, posture relaxed; watching them watch him with their unpleasant stares. It all comes from uneasiness, not danger. Maybe hornyness. He stares back at his empty notebook, concealed behind the napkin so that only him knows it’s there. He can be patient, it’s one of his strongest assets. He keeps his posture relaxed and his hands open, his gaze impenetrable. He does this dance everyday, and it’s always the same. They stop staring after a few seconds and reluctantly go back to their martinis.

It’s twilight, and the afternoon and subsequently night look calm.

Finally, his order comes out.

The food is nice, but not as nice as he expected. The side of mushrooms is mushy, but he doesn’t complain. Maybe he shouldn’t judge too hard this little joint. After all, they don’t know what is coming.

He stills in his seat for a second when the next client that comes in causes a small commotion. Now that the door is open, light and dust from outside are stemming inside. But it’s not a client at all who is in. And it’s making noise. He furrows his brow.

“Damn, I could use a cold beer.” The skeleton on the door is wiping the sweat from his brow, nonchalant. He has only a sweatshirt on and a pair of loose, dirty pants, but it’s clear he is the delivery man. Way too comfortable he slides onto a stool, winking at the housewives as he drops the dusty helmet on the ground.He manages to write on his small notebook “do a health supervision.

Edge plans to finish his meal as soon as possible now, which is not difficult. The good thing about having sharp teeth is that he can chew his way through the driest filet mignons. Still, he doesn’t finish it; a little taste for what is to come. He steps out of his chair, concealing his notebook in his pocket.

He surprises the other skeleton looking at him from the other side of the room.

His expression is unreadable as he goes to the counter to pay, and leaves a considerable tip. He feels almost bad for what he is going to write in the next few days. The two women go quiet as he waits for the owner to appear from the back, a smiling round man who pays no attention to his permanent scowl, instead focused on the money. Both the delivery driver and the women are staring at him openly now. So much for no being known yet.

He arches his browbone at him, and the dusty skeleton simply smiles, comfortable. God, he is the personification of a Dalsy bottle. With sweat.

Disgusting.

He steps outside as fast as possible, welcoming the heat for once as he leaves behind that mess of a place. In his wise opinion, here in the south the only compulsory ability should be learning to write and to be able to cook a decent steak, but not even those standards they meet.

“The decorations were fine.”Couldn’t they have sent him to the north, again.

He yearns for cold, and mountains. Right now, he would take anything, but this locations looks like was made to spite him. Not even space to ride a proper car, no maintained roads, no finesse. All dust and sun. He misses New York.

The cold city in winter, he misses the people that don’t talk to you, the empty and uppity restaurants. He misses the park he used to go on runs to, the stupid yappy dogs that would growl at him. He hates the peaceful air of this small compound of towns, he doesn’t trust it. He knows where the drug dens and money laundering businesses tend to congregate and is not in the most obvious places.Not that he intends to have any business with any of that, but years of distrust do that to someone. He notices, now, where the worst people go.

He misses his dumpster of a brother.

That thought is treated with bile for a second. And more distrust, but Edge manages to swallow it down as he walks around the block to his new suburb.

Ah, yes, he is doing a lot of walking these last days. Being forced to change locations is at best an annoyance every time, but this one time had felt like severing his soul a little; that big was his worry. Red can’t do well alone on his own.

He doesn’t wave to the neighbour across the street, he simply walks up to his small house and greets the depressing boxes signalling his moving status. Depressing for now, he thinks. In no time he will have the basics set up

He is doing good, having arrived that morning and already having scoped out one of the objectives, not that there are many. The sooner he is done with this area, all the better. There is no need to be disappointed in himself. Maybe he will be allowed to move back if he finishes with the area, but more likely than not, he will be sent elsewhere or simply ordered to reevaluate. This is not a low point in his life, just a setback and part of the process. He will skype Red later and he will probably not answer.Now, to finish the unpacking.

He moves as fast as he can with the outside lights of the sunset fading, opening boxes and sorting the essentials with a box-cutter. With a sigh, he decides to unpack Doomfanger’s stuff before the kitchen utensils. Cooking will have to wait, and there is no time if he wants to get the sheets set up in his bed and get up to go on a run tomorrow. He needs to scope up the neighborhood for the best places to go on runs to.

As much as it hurts his connoisseur spirit, takeout will do.

He has to stop Doomfanger scratching up the door frame. Both are pissed off, no one likes the new place.

The silence could easily be the worst part. Edge has never liked eerily quiet sunsets. He grits his teeth as he finishes up folding the sheets, ignoring the urge to check the house. New place, and he feels already like he is being watched, but here there is no one. Dreamy suburb, no one knows him and his cat, he is not going to give in to the paranoia.

He hasn’t slept yet since this morning. Airports are the only place that drains him off his energy and he doesn’t even do that much when he is there, but there is so many people, so many weapons and constant threats. So many hours of hyper-alertness while at the same time nothing happens during hours at a time. At least on the streets with that ambiance, fights would break eventually.

So it’s no wonder he is not unpacking that fast, distracted; and at first he doesn’t notice the open window blowing a refreshing breeze into the soon-going-to-be living room. He blinks first, freezing. At breakneck speed, he slams the sill closed with a closed expression, and the silence is evident in the room. Too slow. He isn’t sure for how long the window has been open like that. He will have to check. He thinks it was closed five minutes ago, and Doomfanger or himself may have pushed the mechanism (that cat is devil-smart), but he can’t be sure. He is getting sloppy.

Steady and fast, he goes back to the entryway, opening a certain box and grabbing his weapon of choice, a taser. Quietly, he checks the front door. Bolted. Not a sound in the house. There is almost no light shining through the windows. Edge still hasn’t got time to put the curtains on. Big mistake. He checks the kitchen. Empty, full of boxes. Living room, study; empty. Windows, bolted in place. Backdoor, closed. The bathroom is even more deserted. And in his bedroom is only Doomfanger, licking his own butthole. He checks even the cupboards, but finally he is able to breathe. Thank god he doesn’t have an upstairs to take care of.

Finally, he drops the taser on the kitchen counter, drowning in the silence of the house. There is no one here. He settles enough to open his computer to call Red. He knows he won’t answer, not until he pesters him in every way possible for a couple of days, but it still bothers him. There is a couple of messages from Undyne, though, and he smiles begrudgingly.

He has time to call for food to the same stupid place he just came out of; not another steak, but he gives the stupid joint another chance. He is in a good mood.

He settles on the just unwrapped sofa, petting begrudging Doomfanger until he gets sick of him and leaves the sofa hissing, probably off to scratch another place.

The bell rings as his phone goes off, and Edge huffs. Red has a way of bothering even when he is not there. He chooses to ignore the anime girl his brother chose as avatar in order to answer the door. Steamed broccoli and baked goods. That can’t go bad.

The delivery guy on the other side gets him by surprise, though it shouldn’t.

  * Heeey, dude.



The skeleton from before. Edge keeps his frown. Same hoodie, same unkempt look. He smells weed on him this time.Edge feels the check before he can react, and stands dumbfounded on the doorframe as the other skeleton whistles.

  * What in the hell are you doing? -He stammers and the other skeleton gives him the bag with a smirk. Well, yes. He is a Fell monster. So what. Checks are rude, and this is his house.



Edge all but closes the door on him when he gives the other the money. The lanky skeleton is still looking at him strange, but it isn’t fear what’s in his eyes. He finally leaves, blinking owlishly at the door for a few seconds. Doomfanger meows at him for food. He isn’t that sure now the other skeleton was high, and he double-checks the windows before heading back to the kitchen once he makes sure he is gone. What a neighbourhood.

There is no curtains to shield him, the vegetables are chewy and there is no saving grace from Edge’s humour now. Exhaustion has been fogging his mind for a while, so he decides to sleep before try bathing Doomfanger. It is easier said than done, because his cat is restless and every sound in a new house is a new alarm in his brain he can’t prevent, and no one is getting in his house. He ends up falling asleep at three in the morning.

Waking up at six would have been a bit of a nightmare, if it wasn’t because he isn’t Red and has a decent chunk of HP to spare. Still, he brews his coffee with a scowl after setting up the coffee machine in his pyjamas, cloud of dust after cloud of dust watering his eyes. Much too dirty at this early in the morning. The cat isn’t even awake.

When he goes outside in his sports gear he is on a bit of a better mood, but not much. He jogs in silence through the empty streets. The sun is not rising yet completely and the place looks peaceful. Edge doesn’t trust peace, but there is not even cars driving around. A neighbour he doesn't know yet waves at him while in the middle of picking his dog’s poop. The poodle doesn’t even deign him a threat as it turns around. Doomfanger wouldn’t ever do that. Then again, this is a different environment and his cat hisses even at him. The long, full of plants avenues are cute.

He automatically goes to the only places he knows. A dangerous habit. It isn’t much, since he has only been here a day and knows exactly three streets, so he doesn’t jog for that long. And it pisses him off a bit more, since he ends up running right up to the restaurant. The owner is there, smoking right beside the door, or at least someone that looks very much like him. He stops to cross the street before he has to start delivering good mornings. He swerves right to cross the street, into what traffic would have been if it wasn’t because there is not even a tire rolling on the principal avenue of the town.No, he is not going back to that greasy place.

A car screeches past the opposite corner and Edge stops automatically, even when it’s nowhere near close. The sound momentarily distracts him.

The owner staggers back, a hand to his chest, and Edge for a second can’t see where this went.

“Slow.”

He is back at his house, New York in a second, memories flying past him. Him, barely a scruffy teenager, sitting on the porch steps with his brother. Red looks amused, because of the stupidity he just said. “S’not as fast as the movies. Is quiet.”

Edge remembers not believing him, moody as fuck. He used to get bullied a lot. Red put an end to it before he threw his university options out of the window. That degenerated into everything else, he guessed. Now he knows that Red had seen enough problems in the streets to know what he was telling him.He got a chance to prove himself right, too. Place was bad enough that Edge had seen at home enough robberies gone wrong to know that wounds to the chest rarely produce sound.

Back at the present and he is running. He kneels next to the man, the screeching sound of the tires of the car drowning the wheezes he is producing as the man falls to his knees. Probably hit a lung. Shooter knew what he was doing. Blood is staining his rockabilly shirt, so little that Edge is worried. Grabbing him before it happens, Edge hauls him inside in a daze.

The car is now long gone, a cloud of dust shielding its recent path, screeching tires a few streets over.

-Someone call an ambulance! -he roars before collapsing under the weight of the man, who is no longer conscious. Red was wrong with this one, it was quick. The woman running the bar must be the wife, horrified as she is at first, but the human behind the counter makes quick use of his phone as Edge tears the shirt open with little effort.

It’s not good, his lung is probably collapsing. Edge is no doctor, but the man is getting purple even though he is breathing. The wife is wailing. The man is going to die.


	2. Locals are locals, after all

Half an hour later, turns out Edge was right. The man did not wake up and it was very little time for the ambulance to arrive. It took one very concerned waiter and an idle wife to convince first hand the first detective that arrived to the scene that Edge did not kill the man, even though his hands were slightly stained with blood. Now he is at home, still in his ruined running gear, doors and windows locked and triple checked;sitting on the stairs with his cat and fear pounding on his chest. He feels like a teenager again, cowardly hiding behind Red’s laughing shadow.

This shouldn’t have happened.

Fuck, he moved somewhere else, TWICE. They aren’t at home anymore, Red is not a killer anymore; and still, he just arrived. Can’t be a coincidence. The extensive search he did while calling a few favours showed that there was no major crime in this city. Can’t be a coincidence. He stops scratching Doomfanger’s ears, breathing shallow.

The cat is quick to leave scratches on his new shoes, and Edge decides that it is enough. If someone wanted him dead in this city, he would already be. But he still has a problem. It seemed professional, the way the man didn’t have any possibilities from an only shot to the chest.The car didn’t stop to check or shoot. They had to be pretty damn sure the man was doomed with only one bullet. No personal revenges or gloating, or even getting out of the car to get rid of the possible witnesses. Trouble on the streets usually doesn’t go by that.

He takes his phone out and with a swift motion he dials one of the many numbers he knows from memory. Seven beeps later and the gruff voice on the other side of the line makes him crinkle his sockets a little, although he would never admit it. Doomfanger is still pissed, and Edge gently traps him between two phalanges to stop him from scratching at his shirt.

It sounds like Red just woke up.

-What’s the matter, boss? -his voice is deeper than usual, and he finds himself smiling a little. He quickly erases that smirk before answering. Red can tell when he is.

\- I need you to look up trouble for me. Couple of streets over. -Red makes a non-committal noise- I know you have it mapped.

As if he didn’t know Red had scoured the zone before he even took the plane. He would have even teleported if Edge had let him.

\- Boss, we saw the place. It’s cleaner than a... I dunno. Something very clean. And posh.

\- There was a shooting right besides me. -Edge explains calmly into the phone, and he hears Red fidget with the cord, a little more awake now- A professional. Twenty minutes ago.

\- Shit boss are you...?

\- I am fine. Please, Red, it’s important. – he is aware he is treating his brother more curtly than he should, but the nerve-wracking realization that he might not have escaped the violence that has been surrounding him his whole life is starting to catch up.

Red doesn’t need any more convincing. Red knows what’s up and it’s probably already heating his first cup of coffee in the microwave. He should do the same.

He stretches his legs out of the narrow space on the stairs, one hand still balancing a very pissed off Doomfanger who tries to scratch the bones of his arm at every corner and the phone with the other. He sets the cat down to put the kettle on. Doomfanger doesn’t attack him but hisses petulantly. He knows that if Red was here in charge he would already be locked in the bathroom.

Red doesn’t make him wait long.

-I’m checking a few databases, boss. Nothing spikes.

Edge sighs and leans against a wall, finally unwinding.

\- Thank you. -the kettle finally hisses and Edge goes to turn it off. The house went back to seem strangely empty. Pity he doesn’t have his own items there yet. He should have a cookout.

\- No problem, Boss. I know what it feels like. 

It’s on moments like this where his job makes him miss Undyne. One of his only friends apart from his brother, and one of the very, very few who understands the paranoia which settles in your chest once you have witnessed gruesome deaths. Impossible to get rid of, hard to deal with. Sometimes he wonders if he will ever stop getting jumpy every night when he closes his eyes out of exhaustion, or forgets checking the locks on the windows and doors.

No dice.

Not even Undyne can stop having nightmares and that woman can supplex him to a concussion.

No wonder he can’t stop himself from extending an invitation to Red.

\- Perhaps you could come by a few days. -he sips his tea quietly, glossing over the fact that his brother is five hours away by plane- You could use a vacation.

\- Can’t, Boss. -Red growls, probably annoyed at something Edge can’t see. A second later he can hear the swift hum of magic- Got a meeting every few days. I’m sponsoring a new kid. Can’t go... and the coffee machine broke again. -he is probably only admitting to this because Edge can already deduce he is heating his breakfast via making it levitate and vibrate way too fast- But I would like to. One of these days. -he can hear Red chuckling- I bet you will have gone soft by then.

\- I can still beat you in a fight. -not that Red ever tries to win. The fact that he has to verbalize it is probably only making Red smugger.

\- Sure, Boss. Call me when you take up knitting and pie-making with the neighbours.

\- They are hardly going to like a monster going to their rendez-vous. -Red growls at that.

\- Well, they can fuck off with that. -he hears Red pour himself a coffee. It’s probably six in the afternoon and his brother is just waking up to go parent some kid at the meeting. It’s the empty nest, or his brother would have never. Not like he doesn’t have a soft spot for Frisk, but they are also gone, off to share noodles with Asriel in the nearest community college. And if he mentions the meeting his brother will screech- You are too good, Paps. Now go kick the other restaurants in town.

He hangs up not long after that, when Red reaches the point of making fun of the casseroles he doesn’t know how to make yet. The windows he didn’t forget to lock aren’t giving him a headache anymore. The safety locks are on.

He isn’t planning on making a lot of friends in town. He still has time to try his brand new kitchen for the first time. It’s so nice, and yet nothing new. He has started with enough kitchens, houses and utensils from scratch, it’s hard not to get used to the nice life.

The last time, it was in Oregon. A PTA mom caught on and spread the rumour. It was enough to warrant a relocation. He is careful enough, and yet, monsters are not that common to be wallflowers anywhere.

Usually he has to pretend to be there on some sort of other business. Fortunately, no one pries too much, given his unfriendly front; but it gives for some awkward conversations with people that do try to get close. Red knows about his business, and so does Undyne and a few other lucky acquaintances, but the deal is that no one else can. It’s hard to form meaningful relationships with so many secrets in between.

The second and only other time his identity was discovered had been his own fault, really.

Met them on an app, which Edge has been trying to use to forge new friendships and anything goes, as Red says. He was relatively new in Atlanta, and of course, lonely. A nice human. A little anxious, run their mouth way too much, which was nice for Edge. Not having to go through the ordeal to be known and seen to achieve the rewards of being loved. Only listening. They ran their mouth a little too much.

Then it was known. Edge had to leave, yet again.

And now, he was here, starting from scratch for the third time in two years, having to leave behind a brother who very much needed him just to function. He was gay, he was a kitchen inspector, and he was new in town.

Still no idea why the professional secret had to be hidden in such a way, but he was still a newbie compared to other guys in the business. He had gotten to meet a few nice humans and even a monster who worked in the same area as him, but it had been strictly forbidden to form meaningful relationships with any of these people, in risk of being fired. Therefore, it had been equally hard to learn tostay unnoticed. He sighed, tired. God forbid they learned anything from each other and got better at their job. Or formed a union.

But god, did he love to cook. It had been Undyne’s idea to take his salty side into consideration too when considering careers. Edge considered he would have done as well as his friend at the police station back on Chicago. Undyne considered he was too much of a complainy prissy not to be some sort of critic. The accounting career had also been an option. Part of him still wanted to be a hero, and as a consequence he spent two years training with Undyne for the police physical exam as he took his last years of high school. Red threw a hissy fit when he found out.

But ultimately, for all the toughness that emanated off him as a result of growing on the bad side of town, holding a gun wasn’t for him.

Many mixed feeling, lots of bad memories.

Aaand Undyne might have had to arrest his brother on a few bad raids. That would have been complicated for him to do as well. At that time, he wasn’t sure if Red would have tried to play the victim brother card to get out of trouble. The bastard. It would have worked on him. The Mighty Undyne just whacked Red with no intent and took him to the station in cuffs.

So, now, he was here.

The first step probably was to get to know the people in town. He finishes an omelette for him and Doomfanger, choosing to close that first review of that restaurant first. He scouts the area on the computer. A relatively small town compared to his last, which would make him even more of an outsider to the community. Oh, fuck. The diner next to the gas station could go next.

He signs up for a few local clubs. A photography club, a facebook group about knitting he quickly mutes. Luckily his social media recognizes the change, so he is able to find a book club to scout one of these days, some cooking classes (his ego can’t resist to show off sometimes) and surprisingly, another gym of the same brand he used to have at Chicago. He doesn’t need to sign up for that one or need a new membership, so that is good. The waiting list for the cooking classes is too long, but he sends his contact information anyway. There. His afternoons are full now.

He wonders for a second if he should go for another walk. His body resists to the idea, hands trembling slightly; but he can’t stay the whole afternoon indoors and Doomfanger needs socializing. The neighbours have to notice him eventually.

His demon cat struggles when he goes to put the leash on him, but a few good twenty minutes he is dragging a very fussy cat down the steps of his porch. He even tries to scratch him. Him. A being made of bone. He meets a few neighbours on the street, and he is delighted to find out most of them are wary of the cat (who is openly hissing at everyone) rather than fear him. Sure, with his favourite knitted sweater and nerd glasses he is not near as intimidating as with his favourite leather jacket and a permanently scowl on, but it’s still nice to feel accepted.

Nothing remarkable happens, and he thanks his skittish nerves for the break. It’s autumn, and the paths are covered in leaves. Beautiful. It’s not even cold outside. Doomfanger tries to bite a few kids. What seems to be the place for the book club meetings is closed, but the streets are peaceful enough he doesn’t lament it. It’s hard to believe there was a shooting just this morning.

He wonders if there is a mafia here to be worried about.

He doesn’t have to wander long before the cold starts settling, and he decides to go home. Red used to say it was uncommon for a skeleton monster to feel cold, but skeletons are not nearly as common to really know. He has seen a few monsters on the street, which is nice. He goes on the internet to find the nearest monster community, and there are three. That doesn’t mean anything, of course, but it makes him smile nonetheless. A peaceful little town with more monsters than even Chicago.

That night, Doomfanger goes to sleep with him, and Edge allows it. The lumpy ball of fur prefers Red for naps, but he is smart to know it is no longer an option. He hisses when Edge tries to pet him, though, so he probably isn’t very happy about this new move. Edge misses Red too.

He wakes up to birds singing and no Doomfanger.

At least his demon cat didn’t pee on the bed.

Breakfast is quiet as he sips his coffee and checks his emails. He has been accepted into the monster center and he needs to go that afternoon for his membership (he cringes) and a party. Great. Red is going to cackle at this. He has a few messages from Undyne promising to punch him into the sun if he doesn’t call today first thing, and a brief summary of Red’s meeting, which he asked for. Doomfanger manages to trap himself in a cupboard that Edge is pretty sure he isn’t able to open by himself, and screeches a warning when Edge lets him out.

He goes for the gym first thing, which does wonders for his humour. It is full of humans that actually dare to give him the stink eye, but at this time in the morning there is not many people around. The kid in charge of the gym is actually pretty nice. He stays away from the weightlifting stations, fighting instead to level a bike to his hip height, and slowly the people around stop looking. He is doing his best to look nonthreatening, with loose grey gym clothes that mostly hide his scarred bones.

The diner is surprisingly good, and his mood improves greatly after a good meal. The waitresses are nice and the coffee is splendid. The smell of gasoline can be overlooked as well as the tacky decorations. Undyne manages to threaten over the phone after he apologizes and describes is new home. She wants to come visit, but Edge knows she is much too busy with her new partner to actually go through. She manages to wring a promise out of him to visit soon, as if he didn’t leave Chicago two days ago.

He hangs up feeling a little empty.

His next critic is easy (he goes easy on the diner) and Doomfanger almost kills him in the shower when he jumps unexpectedly into the stream of water.

A regular afternoon.

He didn’t dare try the showers of the gym, all the paranoid alarms in his head going off at the thought of letting his guard down in an enclosed space with humans. Doomy gets the silent treatment for a few hours and he decides to go empty-handed to the meeting at the monster-centre. It’s a relief, because the party consists of a dozen monsters quietly chatting and a half-eaten cake. The bunny monster who helps him make his membership card is agreeable enough, a ghost monster is somehow making quiet remixes in a corner table, there is a few skeletons that mostly keep to themselves, a big burly dog that smiles at everyone... A family of fire monsters sitting in a corner drinking what looks like tea catch his attention. They are nice enough once he manages to muster the courage to talk to them, which is always nice, because he gets to practice his crackle dialect. Not just any person does that, and they perk up almost immediately.

He gets invited to hang out at the next picnic by an orange-fire monster named Grillby which Edge is pretty sure shares some ties with the monster named Fellby back in Chicago, and he learns he sometimes also goes to the same gym Edge was this morning at. The rest of the family, another orangeish husband that doesn’t speak much, a blue sparkling wife and a green chatty child that is already out of stripes introduce him to the rest of the people in there.

Children are running up and down, but there is not much going on here.

Turns out the dog is a veteran from the Army, and this is a welcome party for him as well. The ghost monster is too shy to talk to anyone, his name is Napstablook. The bunny monster is offering him some coupons while Edge is bored out of his mind when he feels a tap on his shoulder.

\- Another skeleton! How nice! -Edge turns around to find one of the skeletons from before standing proud in front of him. About as tall as his hip. Purple clothes full of spikes. How adorable. The other skeleton, still in the other corner of the room, doesn’t look at them directly, but Edge’s instincts tell him he is watching them anyway, so he tries not to laugh outwardly.

\- I’m new.

\- WE NOTICED IT! -the volume of the goth skeleton is up, and half the room winces- Sorry! You are the skeleton interested in joining our Magnificent Book Club!

Edge almost slaps himself with his drink. Of course.

\- We saw your email yesterday. -the other skeleton finally walks up to them, shrugging. He slouches almost as comically as his brother Red, and is wearing an oversized pun shirt his brother would also appreciate.

\- THIS IS MY BROTHER SLIM! -the volume takes no one by surprise this time, and Edge nods- So nice to meet you!Will you join us? My brother managed to make us play for most of the time one of his roleplay games, but if we keep up standards we will also be finishing next week an adaptation of Sense and Sensibility.

The small skeleton takes a good look at him, and Edge must have passed his exam with his battered leather jacket, because he nods and his brother smiles. Slim is shamelessly checking him out. Strangely, none of the other monsters are staring at them.

\- My name is Black. Slim, do get me a drink, please. -he hisses the last word as if it hurts him to use manners, and his brother stops checking Edge’s pelvic general area to go to the small water fountain as he smirks. He has a great collarbone, Edge thinks, but he is not really his type- We meet Tuesdays and Thursdays at six in the afternoon. Would that be a problem?!

Black seems excited to have him there for some reason, and Edge was already thinking of joining anyway, so he curtly nods. This puts a smile to Black’s face.

After exchanging a few more pleasantries with Black and his brother, who does not get more than a single word into the conversation, he leaves, profusely thanking the bunny lady. The green fire girl puts a few pieces of cake for him in a box and the dog waves reflexively at him. Shame, he didn’t get to know everybody. The next stop he had to do was for groceries, and then he had to take the cat out to pee on everybody’s business.

That was not hard, but he can’t help feeling watched after leaving the monster center.

It’s the shiver at the back of his neck that makes him want to turn around and smack the shit out of whoever happens to be behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I'm so excited for this. I just want everybody to be a bit of a dork, and at the same time make it so the writing-adrenaline fills my heart.   
> I do hope you liked it. Believe me when I say I have several more pages written, but I cannot post them because my ADHD ass will stop being motivated by immediate posting once it happens.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates at least once a month!


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